


Denial

by SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abandonment, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood Loss, Break Up, Childbirth, Delusions, Depression, Fear, Fear of Death, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Paranoia, Postpartum Depression, Reconciliation, Self-Harm, Surgery, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf/pseuds/SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf
Summary: Kylo discovers a secret Hux has tried to keep from him. Now that Kylo knows everything, how can Hux cope with going on alone, for a life he doesn't expect to survive?





	1. Chapter 1

“Hux?! What is this?!”

Kylo's in the refresher when he starts shouting and Hux can't help but smirk at the ambiguity of the question. What exactly has the man baffled this time? The basics of digestion? Some part of his anatomy he hasn't noticed yet? Hair care products he was never educated on during his time with the disgusting rebels?

He's not going to go in there to find out- let him solve his own bathroom based problems, Hux has work to do.

Which at least means that Hux is sitting down when Kylo comes back into his bedroom, wearing only his boxers and waving a stick. Hux knows he turns pale when he recognises it, the blood rushing away from his face as his limbs turn cold and his chest starts to ache with preemptive grief.

“Hux, this is a pregnancy test.” Kylo states unnecessarily while he waves the easily recognisable object around in one shaking hand. “Who is she?!”

That at least halts his own terror, his blood boiling towards rage instead at the implication. Has Kylo really forgotten his designation?! Has the tight omega cunt hidden behind Hux’s balls really slipped his mind entirely? Despite Kylo’s frequent begging to knot him whenever one of them slips into either rut or heat?

They aren't mated, their cycles ill aligned and disruptive to them both, but if anything that should remind Kylo what he is- the disappointing filling Kylo gives him when he's desperate to be bred, or the painfully tight hole he offers when all Kylo can think of is to impregnate him. 

How he’d managed to conceive at all through such poorly matched couplings Hux didn't know. He didn't really care. They never took, not properly. He'd held one of those sticks with its accusatory double lines in trembling hands six times now, and six times he'd ended up in medical within a month to be told that the heartbeats were gone. Six times he'd found himself in a pool of blood, trying not to identify the clots that represented the pups he'd lost. Watching them wash down the shower drain, too tiny to qualify for any kind of formal burial. 

When he'd seen those lines this time he'd vowed not to think about it, to take a weekly test until the positive turned negative and let nature take its course. There was nothing medical could do for him but read out the numbers he was carrying and repeat them a few weeks later when they died. Better not to involve them this time. Better not to sully his personnel file with yet more details of how he was inferior. 

“Is it Unamo?” Kylo is standing over his now, waving the stick in front of Hux’s eyes like it's his stupid saber. “She's a Beta, did you think your weak Omega sperm wouldn't take in her? Is that it?”

The exact details of the object finally get through to him at this proximity.

That was last week’s test, the latest of three. He hadn't left it out where Kylo might find it- it had been buried deep in the trash unit, waiting to be flushed away to the compactors. Kylo had been rifling through his garbage.

The only lover he'd ever had and Kylo distrusted Hux enough that he had searched through his trash for evidence of infidelity. 

“Get out.” It's all he can manage around the roiling ball of grief and fear and rage. 

“No! You tell me who your whore is…”

Hux sees the hand reaching for him and he's not sure whether Kylo intends to throttle him or use the Force against him, but some deep seated residual instinct for survival has him backing into the corner, his blaster and the chair held between them. Despite his certainty that the pups are either lost or soon to be, Hux finds himself angled to protect his abdomen as much as possible. Nature will take its course but he won't let their father be their cause of death.

Some part of his thoughts must have bled out of his head because Kylo is drawing back, his expression stricken as his gaze flickers downward.

“Your… Hux… is…” he can't seem to speak, the strength draining from his limbs as he sinks down onto the bed.

The danger apparently neutralised, Hux concentrates on raising his mental shields. He doesn't know how much Kylo has read from his mind but he doesn't want him to take any more. His grief is private and none of Kylo’s concern. Or it was, when Kylo knew nothing about it.

“Get out.” It's not eloquent but it certainly represents what he wants more than anything else in the Galaxy. 

Kylo’s face is haggard when he finally looks up. He has his trembling hands cupped in an odd gesture in front of his abdomen, his fingertips twitching slightly as if he's trying to manipulate something. 

“But Hux, you’re pregnant.” It's said with a tone of wonder that Hux would only ever reserve for something fantastic, like Starkiller Base, not the worthless horror of his own faulty biology. 

“Yes. And you threatened me. So you can leave, you worthless excuse for an Alpha, and never darken my…”

“You don't understand, I can't impreg…”

“And yet you did, so don't you dare call me a whore in my own quarters again!” Hux can feel himself shaking, rage and dissipating fear mixing with blood that he knows is low on sugar. He rarely gets time to eat as it is and Kylo dragged him away from the evening meal tonight for a quick fuck. He has no idea when he last had anything but caf. As the buzzing rises in his ears he begins to think that might have been a mistake. 

The blaster is pointing at Kylo’s face again. He's not sure whether he ever actually lowered it. 

“No, no I… I know they're mine. They must be. You don't smell all that different,” Kylo stammers, his face warring through too many emotions while he leans forward to scent the air, “you'd smell like someone else if… no, I… Hux, this is some kind of miracle in the Force, it has to be…”

That makes his stomach roil like it's trying to climb into his chest cavity and eat his heart.

The first time they’d conceived Hux had panicked, and Kylo had gone away on a mission before he'd felt calm enough to confess. By the time they were both in the same place he'd already miscarried. Kylo had never known- why burden the Knight with his own grief? So, with the second and third pregnancies he'd tried to wait until the dangerous first trimester was over before he said anything. He never even got close. After that he kept it to himself. There was no birth control he could take without it appearing in his records and, despite the man's aggravating personality, Hux genuinely enjoyed his lover's company. 

Now the man was overjoyed. He was calling this a miracle. Not a tragedy waiting to play out. Kylo’s heart would break and Hux would lose everything. 

How had he let this happen? Forget the accusations, and Kylo’s total disregard for Hux’s privacy, Hux was the one who had failed them all.

The stick Kylo was turning in his fingers before him was almost a week old. The pups might already be dead. They probably were, his body just waiting to expel them, nothing but tissue and broken hopes.

What in the name of the stars can he say? How can he concentrate on undoing this when his hands are shaking and his vision is turning soft at the edges?

And why is Kylo turning down the lights? 

\-----

“There's only one this time Lord Ren, very unusual of course- to have so small a litter - but perhaps it will be beneficial.” 

Hux wakes to the sounds of his doctor's voice and his life shattering around his ears. He knows instantly what Ren will say next.

“This time?” The question is posed in that tone Kylo uses for interrogations, the ones that are going badly and the subject will have to be punished. Hux isn't sure if it isn't just a side effect of unconsciousness but he swears he feels the room turn cold.

“Yes, my Lord, the other pregnancies,” Doctor Seida continues with growing hesitancy. His fingers stray to the side of Hux’ neck, blindly groping for the claim marks he does not bear. “The ones that were lost before were all standard multiple litters, perhaps the General’s body will be better able to sustain an individual pup. It might survive.”

“Doctor, ‘might’ isn't good enough.” This longer sentence brings out more of the vocoder tones making it clear to Hux’s unsteady brain that Kylo is wearing his helmet. 

Hux doesn't know how long he was out, but the fact that Kylo paused in the act of getting medical assistance to don his armour makes his fists twitch. Whether he has lost hope for the pups or not, surely their safety should be Kylo’s first priority. 

‘Pups’. He needs to stop thinking that. There's only one inside him. It's siblings already blighted or lost. One little life clinging to the impossible.

“My Lord, this really is all out of our control.” The doctor sounds terrified. 

Hux should sit up and help him. He likes this doctor. He doesn't want to find another. But his limbs are heavy and his brain feels sluggish. Even his soul feels weighed down. There's something cold and heavy resting low on his belly. A scanning droid. He knows that if he opens his eyes now he’ll see the formless shape of this one last pup and he's not sure his heart can take it.

“We can reduce the risks,” the doctor continues while Hux silently prays for him to shut up, “but General Hux has lost 26 pups in two years- there's only so much anyone can do. He needs to eat and rest, and he needs far less stress than he has, but since Starkiller…”

“Twenty… six…” Kylo sounded murderous- if the air felt cold before it was positively frozen now.

Where was his blaster?

“I want his medical records. All of them.” 

“I… I can't do that my Lord, a patient's records are confidential…”

There's a creak like tortured metal and the bed sags beneath him. Hux cracks his eyes to see Kylo’s gloved fingertips sinking into the gurney as if it were butter. If he could do that with a solid steel table, what could he do with Hux’ limbs?

“ **They're my pups!** ” Kylo spits, utterly enraged while the room shakes around them.

“Yes, my Lord and if they were alive you would be entitled to _their_ records but you're not the General’s mate. You have no rights to his records.” How the doctor stays so calm Hux doesn't know. 

“Give me _their_ records then.” He mutters in sarcastic mockery of the doctor's words. “And their remains.”

“We have neither, Lord Ren. They were not born- the First Order does not give burial rights to miscarried tissue. They did not survive long enough to be classified as ‘people’.”

Around and above them the air fills with creaks and pops. They are quiet, innocuous sounds that Hux still recognises as every light, monitor, and glass container in the room cracking. Kylo has done this before in the throes of passion, but this time it's a reflection of the grief Hux tried to keep from him. 

The doctor gasps as a soft rain of sparks falls from the ceiling but by the time Hux opens his eyes, Kylo is gone.

He does not return.

\-----

Now that medical knows of his condition Hux has no choice but to abide by his doctor's orders. Any refusal to follow the mandated diet or scheme of rest breaks will be noted. If he loses the pup now and is found to be malnourished or overworked… 

He does not deserve to be punished for his own faulty biology, but he will be. The First Order needs children. It needs officers like him and men like Kylo to breed- to combine cunning and brawn, logic and mysticism, tactics and passion. If the inevitable miscarriage is seen as in anyway his fault… General or not, he will be made an example of. 

And what of Snoke? Has Kylo told him the news? 

Fathers are not listed in the data for miscarriages. Though he told his doctor who had sired his pups, Kylo’s name had never previously appeared in his records. Snoke would not have known until a successful birth.

Will Snoke want this child? Will he have an interest in its survival? Will he punish Hux for its loss? For all the previous losses? Or will he see it as a threat to his own hold over Kylo Ren? A distraction to his loyalty? 

Another source of stress. Not knowing what Snoke does or does not know. Not knowing where Kylo has gone or what he intends to do. Not knowing when the loss itself will come.

Each morning he wakes and checks in the fresher for blood. He's grateful at least that as General he has a water shower in his quarters. He has been forbidden from sonics and the daily trek to the special unit on the officer's level would have announced his condition to the whole damn crew. The less they know the better. He doesn't need fifty thousand people looking at him with pity when he loses the child.

Still he suspects that Mitaka, newly appointed as his assistant, knows. The man makes encouraging comments in the mess during meals and seems to have set an alert on his pad to offer snacks throughout the day. Hux swears the man is even keeping track of his water intake.

An Omega of excellent stock- and only one year younger than Hux- Dopheld Mitaka is still a Lieutenant to Hux’s General thanks to a near clockwork annual birth of large healthy litters. Perhaps this experience is the source of his conscientiousness. It's certainly the reason the doctor suggested him. Despite his pups immediately entering the nurseries of the Officer Training Program, Mitaka carries the unmistakable soothing smell of a content Omega. Perhaps he visits them when he's off duty. Hux can see the man doing that, playing games and reading stories with children he hasn't been permitted to keep but still loves anyway. 

Hux would be able to keep this child if he wanted to, if he could, if it lived. If Snoke didn't take it from him. If the universe didn't take it from him. 

Would he want it? Would he smell like Mitaka then? Would he smile like Mitaka, turn soft at the edges, coo at the child with unreserved adoration, give it everything his father denied him? 

He knows he won't ever find out. He knows that he won't get the chance. That the only time he'll ever hold it in his hands is to wash the bloody mess away.

Each evening he showers before bed and checks for blood. 

He does not find it. 

Kylo does not return.

\-----

The war progresses. 

Hux receives reports of the Knights of Ren’s activities- mostly body counts, occasionally tactical information that's valuable to all- but he receives no specific word from or about Kylo. He doesn't ask. 

He throws himself and his troops into battle. He is ruthless and without mercy. The Finalizer and the rest of the First Order fleet lay waste to the Resistance supply lines while his political emissaries make deals with all those planets left to suffer under the neglect of the Republic.

Strategy meetings go on for hours. Without Snoke’s guidance- his silence is a mystery but not unusual- Hux takes it upon himself to make the decisions. Now that the Republic is gone the New Empire must be secured, whoever will be at its head. 

Hux does not imagine it will be him. All he wants is a task to keep his mind off the precarious life growing in his belly. Work keeps him alive. Work keeps him sane. He takes his mandated rest breaks but he works on his datapad in the dark. 

Sleep doesn't come to him easily. It hasn't since the last time Kylo shared his quarters. He hates himself for that weakness.

\-----

Hux rolls onto his back, irritated by the constant bubbling of his digestive system. The last few days it has been bothering him more and more. He doesn't understand it- a single tiny pup cannot possibly displace his organs enough to justify this kind of problem. 

At five months after conception he does not look pregnant. Mitaka frowns and sniffs at him when the Lieutenant thinks he isn't looking. His assistant doubts his earlier assumptions about the General’s condition. In some ways it's helpful- he'd have to work twice as hard to make his crew respect him if he were huge with an Alpha’s pups. But still, the faint odour of pregnant Omega keeps them calm. 

It's only when he lays on his back with the artificial gravity reshaping his body that the bump between his hip bones is at all noticeable. It isn't much. Omegas are supposed to carry lots of pups, sometimes up to ten, so each pup is small and will grow fast once it's born. Even though it has no siblings this little one won't be much more than three pounds. If it survives to be born.

He presses his fingertips into the soft flesh to one side of his belly, hoping to relieve the irritation. Instead he feels a solid mass- his fluid filled uterus, tight like a water balloon. And from within, the smallest of flutterings. 

The breath stops in his throat. He repeats the motion. Another answering flutter, longer and more determined this time. 

That's his baby. The first out of so so many to actually make it this far. Quickening they call it, when the child is large enough and strong enough to be felt from outside. 

His chest feels like it's going to burst. His baby is alive. He communicated with it, in a way. It's real and it's alive.

Abruptly his heart seems to implode, burning through the back of his ribs to plummet through the decks below and out into the chasm of space.

His baby is alive, but only for now. It cannot last. Now that he has felt this sensation he'll never forget it, but it will end. He will be alone. It's just a matter of when.

\-----

He ‘communicates’ with the pup every morning and evening, unable yet to feel it's movement in any position but on his back. He traces the walls of his uterus through his skin and tiny limbs follow. He can't be sure which limbs are which- the jabs of elbow or knee are unmistakeable but beyond that it's impossible to tell. 

Before this change the only way he had to tell that the pregnancy was not lost was a lack of blood and a still positive test. He could have reported back to medical and demanded a scan, but a General should not appear paranoid in times of war. Now he can technically check on the child whenever he wants.

He still becomes antsy as each day progresses, eager for his shift to end so he can return to his bed. He knows he should sleep but instead he lays awake for hours, working on his pad and chasing the movements inside with his fingers. As long as the child moves he has hope. It is false hope but it is all that he has left.

\-----

The Knights of Ren are on the Finalizer. Three of their number are on the bridge, seemingly watching the General while he goes about his business. 

Hux has never known their names- if they even have names- but he can recognise each one by their armour. These are the most senior three, the ones who hover closest to their Master’s side and lead the others on their disparate missions.

He wishes they would stop watching him. 

It's been four months since he last saw their Master, and almost two since he first felt his child. Hux has no idea whether they know, either about the pregnancy or his former relationship with Kylo Ren. He doesn't know what the mystical order thinks of him. All he knows is that three of them are on his bridge, fully armed, and they will not stop staring. 

He turns on his heel, intending to speak to Dopheld as a way to distract himself from the Knights’ presence, but the sudden movement shifts something inside him and the child awakens with a flurry of movement. He's never felt it during the day, not while standing at least. The surprise makes him falter in his steps. 

Mitaka frowns and makes as if to move towards him from his console but stops abruptly. Before Hux can make any gesture of reassurance he finds himself surrounded by a wall of black stinking leather armour. 

He is a tall man, not just for an Omega, but for any of those raised in the First Order fleet. It's one of the reasons so few of his crew even suspect his designation. But there is a habit among those who rarely see him in person to believe he is much smaller than his actual height. His delicate limbs and narrow shoulders can only be corrected so far by his augmented uniform, and so people adjust their view of him to make him _small._

Clearly the Knights had made this same mistake because they crowded around him as if they expected to loom over him. 

It is hard to be intimidated by anyone whose helmet sits below ones eyeline. 

“May I help you?” Hux says snidely, twisting slightly on the spot to look at each of them in turn. 

The last and largest Knight catches hold of his face with gloves that stink of old blood and sweat. Hux is grateful that he has not suffered from nausea with this pregnancy. The stench is almost too much to endure even with a strong stomach. 

There's a snuffling noise from behind the creature's helmet. After a moment the others join in, testing his scent. 

Hux catches a movement at the edge of his vision, a hand outstretched, reaching for his belly. His bump is still barely visible, easily dismissed as the paunch of command, but the creature's fingers move directly for it as if drawn forward by some unseen… force…

It isn't a conscious decision. He hasn't time for that.

He sees the movement and acts. 

The Knight doesn't react when Hux breaks his fingers. It seems unfair somehow that the horrible snaps that echo across the bridge aren't accompanied by screaming. Hux keeps on twisting the appendage back and away from himself, from the child, his child. He's going to break the Knights wrist if the creature doesn't yield soon. 

_Good._

The voice is in his head. As Kylo occasionally would be. Once upon a time.

Without any understanding of the _how_ he shoves at it with all his might. This time the one holding his face does stagger back for a instant before leaning in close.

“Good. Very good. You're the perfect mate for our Master.” It's barely even a whisper. It's some trick of their armour, directed sound that he's sure no one outside their circle can hear.

“I have no mate.” He can't bring himself to vocalise it so it's nothing but the movements of his lips but he knows the others understand by the way their breathing stills. 

The one with the death’s head mask seems about to speak but hesitates at a signal Hux does not see but still senses somehow. 

“Leave. Now.” He says at a volume that carries right across the bridge. 

Mitaka is hovering nearby but comes no closer. No one else on the bridge moves but suddenly every crew member is alert. 

He knows he's broadcasting the scent of an Omega under threat. He hopes the stench of the Knights and Mitaka’s presence is enough to mask its origins but he can see the effect on his crew. They’ll do their best to kill these interlopers if he says the word. They’ll all die in the process but they’ll try. 

Abruptly the Knights of Ren turn as one and stalk off the bridge, the injured individual showing no sign of distress in his movements. Hux wishes he did. 

Before Mitaka even makes it to his side the voice returns to his mind for an instant. His heart trembles at the words and again he hates himself for his weakness.

_Snoke does not know. We will not allow him any more interference in the affairs of our Master. The two of you are under our protection._

Just as the Knight showed no sign of his pain so Hux returns to his duties and gives no hint of the fear now gripping his heart. When the child is lost, as it must surely be soon, will the Knights join with all the other beings that will punish him for his faults of his worthless body? 

There's no chance now of him surviving the death of this little one. 

He must focus on the war and leave the First Order in the best possible state to survive after he is gone.

\-----

It's deep into the sleep cycle. 

Hux lays awake, his datapad abandoned at his side. He is too tired to read now but still true sleep eludes him. His mind will not quiet despite the serenity of the ship.

The stars glitter beyond the viewports. 

The child wriggles and twists beneath his questing fingers. 

The bed dips under Kylo’s weight.

Perhaps sleep was not so elusive after all. 

Warm strong arms fold around his middle, one large hand slipping down to cradle the swell of their child. He can feel Kylo’s breath against his neck, warm and sweet and utterly unreal. The comforting scent of Alpha draws him down into the first restful in four months. Hux had never believed in the Force as a spiritual entity but still he thanks it for this momentary reprieve. 

If the bed linen still smells of Alpha in the morning Hux dismisses it as merely an overactive imagination. 

The Knights of Ren have left his ship again, if Kylo was ever among their number he did not reach out to Hux. He walked out on them and he is not coming back. 

Soon there will be nothing to come back to anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves child birth and a poor psychological reaction to the process. Please take care of yourself while reading it but bear in mind that the tags, not Hux, are trustworthy.
> 
> (brief mention of nausea)

“Sir?”

Mitaka is hovering by his desk, nervously sweating. The band of his cap has been twisted almost beyond recognition between nervous fingers and some irritated part of Hux's soul wants to dock his pay for it.

He smells like a nervous Omega on the verge of a heat. Hux wonders if it's been triggered by his own condition and whether it'll make him unavailable just when Hux will need him the most.

“I'm very busy, Lieutenant,” Hux sighs as he rubs the brow of his nose in frustration.

“Forgive the impertinence, Sir, but if I wait for you to not be busy the universe will have reached its natural heat death before I get the chance to speak to you, and we do not have that long.”

Hux can feel his eyebrows creeping up his forehead in surprise. Mitaka has never spoken to him like this, or to any other officer for that matter, even in the worst throes of his heat stress. It's like being unexpectedly savaged by an ewok.

The man doesn't notice the reaction, choosing instead to stare at the edge of Hux’ desk like eye contact might kill him.

“Sir,” he continues without a pause, “you need a nest. And soon, Sir. I can smell it on you. If… if your Alpha cannot prepare one I… or my own mate could…”

“I have no Alpha, Lieutenant, and no need for a nest.” Hux says. He has any number of reports that need to be read immediately and not one second waste on this foolishness. “Good day, Lieutenant.”

Mitaka frowns as he finally looks up.

“But, Sir, you have to have a nest! Even if your pups go straight into the crèche, and I see no reason that they should, the psychologic…”

“Get out.”

He does not need a nest because there will be no birth. He’ll miscarry and dispose of the remains in the shower as always. A nest is a sentimental acknowledgement of a hope he simply doesn't possess.

“Sir, you took me as an assistant for a reason and it wasn't to aid you with your work. You know how many litters I’ve…”

“OUT.”

“NO.”

Apparently the ewok was a baby rancor, all teeth and claws it didn't really know how to use yet, but determined to try.

“I beg your pardon, Dopheld?” Hux coats the name with ice, a reminder that as General he could take Mitaka’s rank with a wave of his hand.

“You're too important to the Order, Sir.” Mitaka says, voice quavering but somehow forceful. “I don't pretend to know what happened between you and Lord Ren or even if there ever was anything other than the union that put his pups in your belly, but I cannot stand idly by while you let yourself melt into despair. The Order needs you. The next generation needs your pups to lead them. It would a dereliction of my duties to let you go uncared for, Sir. I graduated top of my year at the academy, not top of the Omega students, top of the entire year. I've given my life and 62 pups to the First Order- I sharn’t let you tarnish my reputation now.”

That was unexpected.

Hux has a hand over his eyes when he finally manages to speak. It's a posture of irritation, though that isn't the emotion he is feeling. Loyal to the Order or not, Mitaka has no right to that.

“I am not having Lord Ren’s pups, Lieutenant,” Hux sighs, bending the truth of his single pup almost to breaking point, “So do not hold out hope of some crop of brilliant leaders for your own offspring. I doubt they'll need them anyway. I inherited little from my father apart from my hair, but perhaps your pups will inherit your spirit Dopheld and be leaders themselves. However your attention is misplaced. My condition will not end with a live birth and as such it is none of your concern. At least trust your commanding officer in this.”

There are arguments trapped behind Mitaka’s lips, Hux can see them warring for freedom while his nostrils flare. The smell of pregnant Omega must be overwhelming by now, he spends almost as much time in this office as in his quarters these days, but Dopheld remains silent. He stares blankly at Hux for a moment then leaves without a word.

Hux should do something about this insubordination, but he hasn't the energy.

* * *

He hasn't felt entirely right in days.

The child moves just like before; he does his work like he always has; he absolutely never thinks about Kylo Ren. But despite all that something isn't right. He's anxious in a way that's quite alien to him, a low key ripple of wrongness in his soul.

Perhaps the confrontation with Dopheld has unnerved him more than it should have done. Certainly the odd ache in his thighs that woke him early this morning doesn't help.

A shout from the comm station derails that line of thought.

“General Hux! Sir! We’re receiving an urgent request for military assistance!”

Who would be asking for the Finalizer’s help at this stage? They're deep into the Outer Reaches, engaged in a hunt for resources that's turned into a game of lothcat and rodent with the Resistance. They're purposely as far from the rest of the fleet as possible to stretch the enemy thin. Who else is out here where they shouldn't be?

Hux frowns. “Source?”

“It's… uh… Supreme Leader Snoke, Sir. He's requesting an orbital bombardment of a small moon.”

“Has he given a reason?”

The Major at the comm looks at him like he's mad. Hux bristles with irritation at both the reaction and his own foolishness in asking. If Snoke wanted him to know his reason he would have given them in the initial message.

“Do… do you want me to ask him, Sir?”

The anxiety seems to have turned into nervous sweating, Hux thinks with distaste as he crosses the bridge. Now that he's moving he realises his jodhpurs are soaked with it. The satiny fabric of the parade dress uniform clings horribly to the inside of his thighs. It drags with an odd sensation that pulls him halfway to arousal when it reminds him of pre-heat slick and the want he's not felt in nearly three quarters of a year.

He can't be thinking like this on the bridge, it's beyond unseemly.

“Show me the message.”

The Major steps away from the comm but halts with a startled look before he makes it to an appropriate distance to let him see the read out.

“General?! I…” It's a panicked noise that Hux quells with a glare, shifting against the ache in his thighs to draw up to his full height. The Major falls silent though his eyes keep on darting around the room. Every few seconds the man sniffs nervously.

Hux ignores him. Snoke’s message is baldly simple. There's none of the mystic preverification Hux has come to expect from his written messages. Although, given the urgency of the request, perhaps Snoke literally hasn't time for all that.

Still, it's suspicious.

“Move the ship into range of this moon,” Hux says to the officer on navigation. They're staring at Dopheld. It's always a risk to have mated pairs serving together. Still they nod in acknowledgement of his words. “Approach it obliquely. Put us where a waiting enemy wouldn't expect us.”

“That will take longer, Sir. Given the gravitational charts in that area it may take us up to an hour more.”

“That is acceptable.” He really doesn't feel right. He should retire to his office to study the topographical maps of the planet. An effective orbital bombardment has an art to it. Yes. “Alert me ten minutes before our ETA, you have the bridge.”

He catches Dopheld watching him as he heads for the doors but he finds he lacks the energy to think of it. The feeling of anxious dread is building. He needs to rest. He needs privacy.

If only it weren't the middle of his shift so he could go back to his quarters. He has a sudden urge to be back in his bed, buried under every blanket he owns, warm and safe and far from reality. He wishes he had something that still smelled like Ren.

The sweat-like dampness between his thighs abruptly becomes a rush of liquid. Not blood or urine- amniotic fluid.

He's in labour. That's why he wants to nest.

He's barely made it off the bridge. His office and quarters are both levels away. So is medical.

When did the child last move? This morning when he woke? Or last night when he finally drifted off with the little one kicking against his hands?

He can't feel it moving now, just a rising sense of pressure.

There's a storage space a few doors down from the bridge. It's not ideal but it's small, dark, and private- everything his mind is screaming for right now.

The mouse droids chitter at him in irritated binary but they leave their charging ports when he aims a kick at them. The door closes to wrap darkness around him and he feels a little of the tension melt away.

Throwing off his greatcoat he realises he has to get out of his jodhpurs. They're already soaked but the ship will be going into a combat situation soon, he needs to keep them as respectable as he can.

The movements are mechanical. His boots refuse to come off so he tugs the cuff of his jodhpurs up and out of the leather to unlace them. It's awkward but it requires concentration and that at least means he doesn't have to think about what will happen next.

The pup has died. He's made it this far and it died in the night without him even noticing. He feels his throat tighten with grief. He can't do this. Not again. Not this time with an almost full-grown child. The guilt will kill him before the Order or Snoke ever get the chance.

It's difficult to squat with his boots still on but his body is taking over. It might be worthless and broken but it seems to know what it should do.

He's pressed into the corner of the room, palms braced against the walls when the door opens just enough to admit Lieutenant Mitaka. He should shout or send him away but the only noise getting through his teeth in a low pitched whine. It's such a stereotypical Omega sign of distress. He'd hate himself for it if he had the energy.

Dopheld has a bundle of clean uniform pieces under his arm. At this moment Hux can't think of a more stereotypical action for the man. Of course he'd pause in coming to his commanding officer’s aid to fetch a change clothes.

The bundle is tucked onto a high shelf out of the way before Dopheld is kneeling primly before him.

“Can I touch you, Sir?”

Hux wants to scream no, or lash out, but he knows it's not an option. Not with the ship in imminent danger. Dopheld smells comforting, the soft calming warmth of content Omega, and Hux feels instinctive trust beneath the jagged edges of his jealousy. He nods.

Cool hands skirt over his belly, feeling progressively lower to find the shape of his uterus. With just one pup it's far smaller than it should be so it sits half hidden almost inside the curve of his pelvis. Dopheld presses inward, oh so gently, but the touch triggers something and simple pressure becomes as a fluctuating wave.

“How… how far gone are you?” Dopheld asks with a note of horror. Perhaps he thinks he's facing an early miscarriage rather than a birth. Hux hasn't the heart to tell him how different the two things are if he doesn't know for himself. He wonders what it must be like to have never experienced a loss.

“Eight and a half months,” he manages to gasp between cresting waves that beg his body to bear down. Somehow he knows he shouldn't just yet. “There's only one pup.”

“Oh, Sir,” Dopheld sighs. Hux hates the pity in his voice.

With a mumbled apology Dopheld reaches between his legs. Cool fingers enter him for just a moment before they return to his belly.

“I can feel the head, you should try to push on the next wave.”

He doesn't want to but his body ignores him.

The next few minutes are a mess of whining and muscle spasms. He's tipped forward to lean against Dopheld’s shoulders and pant against his neck. It's unseemly but he doesn't care. His mind is begging for the scent of his Alpha, but with Kylo gone he’ll take Dopheld’s smell as a poor substitute.

“It's coming, Armitage, two more pushes, that's all, come on.”

He doesn't remember giving Dopheld permission to use his given name, but he can hardly object in the circumstances. It's absurd that something barely larger than Ren’s knot should cause him so much trouble coming the other way.

“That's it, that's it. The afterbirth will follow quickly so don't move until I say,” Dopheld murmurs softly. His hands leave Hux’s belly for a moment to rest against his entrance.

The pressure vanishes with an intense wet, slithering sensation as the thing reaches his slick glands and the way is suddenly made smooth.

Silence. It doesn't cry and Hux’s last ounce of hope dies with his child.

“Oh, there she is! Hello little one, welcome to the universe.” Dopheld says as he catches the limp little body in his hands.

Hux wants to be sick at the words, would be if he'd managed to eat over the last few days. The thing is dead, why is Dopheld talking to it?

He glances down to see an impossibly small black and red figure being wrapped in his ruined greatcoat. He wishes he hadn't looked at it. It didn't look human. He'll see this thing every time he closed his eyes for the rest of his very short life.

From a shelf above his head his comm bleeps. They must be reaching the objective.

He stands with shaking legs to retrieve it. Dopheld makes a noise of objection but he ignores him. This battle will likely be his last action in this life. He has to make it count.

There's a sharp tugging pain, deep in his belly, but he hasn't time to think about it.  

“General Hux, 10 minutes to ETA.”

He hums a confirmation, gritting his teeth in disgust as the mess of cord and placenta slips between his legs.

“I’ll be on the bridge in 5.”

“Sir, you can't!” Dopheld hisses, thankfully waiting until the comm disconnects before he speaks or else Hux really would have had him up on a charge, regardless of the temporary assistance he's rendered. “Sir, your daughter, you can't…”

“Take it to medical.” Hux says flatly, wiping his legs with his ruined jodhpurs before pulling the fresh ones on. “Have them put it on ice, Ren might want to claim it.”

Dopheld stares at him in horror as Hux strides out of the storage space. No doubt he hates him for this loss, the last lingering respect for his commanding officer burned away, but Hux can't find it in him to care. Just let him finish this one task and then he can die. Living has entirely lost its appeal for him now.

* * *

His navigation officer physical recoils from him as he enters the bridge. Of course, he must look terrible.

“Show me the coordinates Snoke gave you.”

The officer jumps to the task, though their eyes keep coming back to Hux’s face.

Hux can see himself reflected in the monitors- beneath a sweaty mess of hair he's grey-faced and tear-streaked. He looks close to death. It's unacceptable but he hasn't time to deal with it.

The Finalizer rolls in space without him needing to issue a command, the moon placed above the viewports just as he prefers. This crew know him so well, he hopes the next commanding officer will make as good a relationship with them.

He always likes to see a planet before a bombardment, somehow he perceives more this way than from mere schematics.

This time he sees far more than he should. It's like his confrontation with the Knights all over again. It might just be his birth addled mind but he knows Kylo is down there. Precisely at the point Snoke intends for them to hit. Kylo and all his Knights are fighting something there, and forty kilometres to the East is something else. An emptiness that turns his heart cold. Snoke.

How he knows this he cannot say, but Snoke is there…

“Sir?” The navigation officer whispers in worried tones, their eyes fixed to the deck at Hux’s feet. “Sir, do you need a medic?”

There's a metallic tang to the air on the bridge but perhaps it's just a manifestation of Hux’s nerves.

“Target this grid reference,” he says, ignoring the question.

“But Sir that's not…”

“I think I misheard you, Commodore,” he snaps, “try again.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.” They salute and begin to turn the ship to give the weapons an easier trajectory.

There's a murmuring around him. The crew not actively involved in the manoeuvre are staring at him and something behind him.

Dopheld has returned to his station. The bundled greatcoat containing Hux’s most terrible failure is still in his arms.

Hux can't smell it, the sad scent of a dead pup, all he can smell is metal, but no doubt the others are picking it up. He hasn't long.

“All ventral weapons hot.” Mitaka says quietly.

“Fire everything.”

It might not work. He might be signing his own death warrant for attempted treason. But in his grief he cannot find it in him to care. In fact he feels so lightheaded he's no longer sure why any of it matters at all.

The ship rocks slightly with the force of so much weaponry being discharged at once. It's showy and in other circumstances probably unnecessary, but in this, if nothing else, he wishes to be certain. His last act should not be in vain.

The ship tilts again to show the planet, but the floors tilt with it- the antigravity must be failing- so he grabs the officer’s shoulder for stability. An arm encircles his waist. He should object at the familiarity but he won't be heard over the weird siren filling the bridge with a wall of ear splitting noise.

One of the monitors has changed, Kylo Ren is staring at him, bloodstreaked but grinning. Hux doesn't know how he can smile after the loss they've suffered, but then- Ren doesn't not know yet. He wishes he didn't have to tell him.

“Hux! Hux, Snoke is gone, I felt it, who knew the old bastard was just as susceptible to explosives as the rest of… Hux what's wrong? What's that noise?”

Hux can't answer him, the deck is still tilting and it's all he can do to cling to the officer beside him.

“It's your daughter, Sir,” Dopheld says, bringing the sad little corpse far closer to Hux than he would have wished in order to present it to the monitor. The thing is still black in places but the red has been replaced by a vibrant pink. Its mouth is open to emit the most horrific noise. The sound claws at Hux’s spine and makes the front of his chest ache in a way he can't describe.

The odd pain in his belly is spreading down now though, flowing through his limbs and stealing his strength.

“ ‘Pheld, please help me, he's bleeding,” The Commodore sounds panicked. Hux can't work out why. “I tried to get his attention but he wouldn't listen, there's so much blood on the floor, ‘Pheld what do I do?”

Who cares about a little blood when the deck is rushing up towards them?

* * *

He doesn't want to open his eyes but he knows he's in medical. The uncomfortable metal surface of a gurney is making his bones ache even through the plast-wrapped mattress.

He's cold. Everything is bare but for a sheet draped low on his pelvis and something warm resting at the centre of his chest. Perhaps he's in the morgue and a diagnostic droid is performing his autopsy.

The thing on his chest moves with an organic wriggle. His skin turns colder where it leaves wet circles in its wake. He shivers for a moment and then one nipple is suddenly engulfed. Relief floods through him in a hormone driven haze. He'd never considered feeding a child himself- he isn't even sure if his skinny body can support another being- but right now he's willing to try.

He lifts a hand and finds it covered in wires. The other is little better but the fingers are free at least. He settles it gently over the creature on his chest.

His daughter is almost covered entirely by his hand. Unable to resist any longer he opens his eyes.

She's tiny, with Ren’s dark hair and the slate grey eyes of all pale pups. She's still pink, though not as flushed as when he last saw her. Someone has washed the red from her so that the downy lanugo hair remaining on her shoulders looks almost white. She’s beautiful. And he had left her for dead.

“Lord Ren! I need to speak to you before you go through!” The voice is not that of his usual doctor. He vaguely recognises this one but he's never dealt with him directly.

“It can wait.” Kylo says with certainty. The vocoder gives his words a strange edge that makes Hux shiver. He shouldn't be here in that damn mask.

“It really can't, my Lord,” the man continues breezily. “The good news is that your pup survived despite weighing just 978 grams. Of course the General cannot have any more, which makes it especially fortunate that the two of you didn't formalise a Mating bond.”

Hux frowns at the curtain separating his bed from the rest of the room. What business is it of his- their bond or the lack of it? How dare he?

He can only hear Kylo and the Doctor, but somehow he knows the rest of the Knights aren't far away.

“What?” Kylo spits contemptuously.

“Oh you don't know?” The Doctor sneers. “Unfortunately, the General suffered serious internal injuries after stupidly electing to deliver in a closet, then compounded the error by returning to the bridge only minutes later. The placenta was torn away rather than being allowed to separate on its own. Doctor Seida has kept him alive, however it wasn't possible to save his uterus. But since he's lost so many pups in the past it's no doubt for the best that he has been spayed.”

The medic might have had more to say but his words were abruptly cut off by a choking sound and the slap of flesh against leather.

“I find your willingness to speak with such contempt for your commanding officer extremely disturbing, Doctor,” Kylo hissed.

“He's just an Omeg-AH no no no….”

“Master, wait.” It's the Knight that spoke to him on the bridge, the one who tried to enter his mind. “It would be a waste to choke this man to death.”

There's a pause and Hux can just imagine the questioning way Kylo tilts his head. He'll have raised an eyebrow under the mask to make his uneven features a little more strange.

The Doctor makes a noise of agreement that turns into a whine of fear when the Knight continues.

“We all know this pup is a gift from the Force, a miraculous blessing on your union and the empire to come. Please, Master- give this cretin to us that we might make gifts for you both, and for your daughter, from his bones.”

“His skin might be useful as well, Master,” another Knight suggests, “and we can remove that while he's still alive…”

Hux smiles at that. How wonderful to have such loyal servants.

“Yes, let us make this useless creature into something worthy of the future Emperor, his consort, and their heir.”

Kylo laughed. “I have no wish to be Emperor.”

“Of course not, Master- _he's_ going to be Emperor.” The Knight replied.

Hux laughed out loud at Kylo's grumbling response.

Perhaps he should have tried to shield his nakedness when the curtain was torn back to reveal the seven black clad figure loitering beyond, but there were too many wires running from his hands to make the futile gesture worth the pain.

“You're awake.” Kylo tries to say it quietly in an attempt to avoid disturbing their daughter, but she's already beginning to doze, milk drunk and exhausted from her first day of life. The vocoder still makes him louder than he might wish so he removes the mask and Hux finally sees his face for the first time in nearly half a year.

He's made an attempt to wash the blood from his face, but he still needs a shower. There's a new scar running down over the right eye. Hux can hear the whirring of the prosthetic replacement focusing on him.

“Oh, she so small… how can she be so small?”

There's no meaningful answer to that so Hux stays silent, watching as his Alpha peels away his gloves and carefully runs his hands through the sonic. At least he understands good hygiene even if he rarely bothers with it for himself.

Hux shivers slightly at a featherlight touch over his lower belly. It feels like there are stitches in the skin that will probably start to hurt soon. The wound is certain to scar without bacta, but he knows he can't be suspended while there's a pup to feed.

Although no words are spoken Hux knows Kylo has summoned one of the Knights into the space. The Force, always a mystery to him before, is like a distant echo now. Perhaps carrying a Force sensitive child has woken something in him. The Knight makes an odd clicking sound as Kylo settles into a chair and reaches for their pup.

“He is our medic,” He says in explanation, “he can use the Force to heal you so you don't need to wait for nature to take its course.”

“But…”

“It'll hurt like hell.”

“Good.”

Their daughter fits entirely in one of Kylo's huge hands. In fact her limbs are slimmer than his digits. It brings Hux’ heart into his throat to see her so vulnerable. She'd seemed so strong inside him.

Suddenly she yawns and wraps one tiny hand around Kylo’s thumb. The Master of the Knights of Ren looks like he might cry.

Gloved hands press into Hux’s abdomen and it's all he can do not to scream. To fight through his pain he tries to focus on Kylo.

“You left us.”

“Yes.” Kylo says sadly, folding his other hand over their daughter’s tiny frame. “I had to, or I thought I did. Snoke always told me I couldn't have a child, when I found out you'd had so many I assumed he was the reason they were lost.”

“No, that was just bad biology. There's always been something wrong with me.”

“Snoke wanted me from before I was even born Hux, he could have interfered with you too.”

Hux shrugs. It's too late for reasons now, far too late.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here.” Kylo continues. Maybe he had heard the thought. “We meant to be back before the birth.” He blushes, his eyes fixed entirely on the child in his hand. “I… I built you a nest in our ship where the smell of me would be strongest. We can move you both there now, so you can have your first month in peace.”

Hux has seen the Knights of Ren’s ship. It's filthy. A disgusting mess of unpolished armour and unwashed bodies. It should not make his mouth water or his limbs turn warm with anticipation but it does. He really doesn't like the Omega side of his personality.

“The nest is clean I swear, only the best for my Mate and our pup. We’ll kept you fed and safe while she grows, she'll want for nothing I promise you that.”

“Kylo,” Hux sighs, “I’m not your Mate, and if what that Doctor said is true I might never go into heat again. We can't be bonded.”

The Knight leaning on his middle snorts and clicks.

“He says you still have your eggs.” Kylo translated. “Nothing can come of them unless we use a surrogate, but you'll still heat. If you let me bond with you we’ll sync. Would you like that?”

“I…” He pauses, uncertain. Kylo is running a fingertip down their daughter’s back in time with her breathing. His heart hurts at the sight. “Yes. More than anything.”

Kylo smiles sadly and leans forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you, I'm sorry I left you like I did.”

“Just don't ever do it again.”

“I swear.”

* * *

True to Kylo's word the nest is immaculately clean and incredibly comfortable.

Hux had imagined that giving into these urges for comfort would make him feel weak, instead he feels content in a way he can't quite describe. It's what their daughter needs to grow most effectively and he finds that overriding his embarrassment at being seen like this.

It helps that Mitaka was the first to visit and he left Kylo with the gift of a black eye. Hux had never heard the Knights laugh before but it seemed that seeing their leader brought low by an small angry Omega was the height of hilarity for the warriors. Certainly Hux could see the appeal.

The Lieutenant sat for an hour, watching the pup he'd helped deliver and relaying the well wishes of the crew. They were all ready to follow Hux’s command, apparently impressed by his willingness to do whatever it took in a crisis. Dopheld, who knew the truth, was less willing to forgive his recklessness, but Hux’s promise that any pups he and his Mate had in future would be theirs to keep had gone some way to clearing the air between them.

The fact that Dopheld smelled like a blissfully happy newly pregnant Omega probably helped with that. Hux tried not to feel jealous that he'd never smell like that again.

Now he's gone and the Knights’ little transport is quiet. The Finalizer’s crew has removed the other ships from the hanger and dimmed the lights to give them more privacy- it feels almost like floating in space.

There will be more challenges and new responsibilities, now that the First Order is his and Ren’s alone, but for now he should sleep. He needs to restore his energy somehow.

Instead he lays there, wrapped in the scent of Ren, and watches their daughter breathe.

That steady rise and fall could stop at any moment.

She's so small and fragile in a universe filled with things that could do her harm. How many times has he already thought her dead?

He had been helpless then when she was inside him, dependent but unreachable. If she'd died at that point- there would have been nothing he could have done.

But if she stops breathing now, and he isn't awake to save her, that would be his fault, wouldn't it? If he selfishly allows himself to sleep and she passes away…

He sits up through the night, one hand cradling her as she sleeps and feeds and sleeps again, hardly even daring to blink in case he misses something vital.

She doesn't have a name yet. He had heard other Omegas saying that naming a pup before it was born and certain to survive was bad luck. Some old religious thing that giving such a vulnerable soul a name would give death a way to find it. After his first lost litter, whom he'd foolishly nicknamed while Ren was away, Hux had stuck to the superstition. It might be backward and baseless but somehow the idea of protecting her in any possible way had seemed right.

But now she was here and far more vulnerable than ever. It couldn't possibly be safe to give her a name yet.

Kylo tries to raise the matter once or twice, but takes Hux at his word when he claimed some cultural reason for waiting that he'd invented on the fly. Instead they talks about his battles against Snoke and the slow arduous path that had finally led to the ancient monster being desperate enough to call in Hux to end his own Mate’s life. Hux smiles slightly and reminds him once again that they aren’t mated yet. Kylo doesn’t seem to think it matters.

Hux wonders whether Kylo would notice his descent into exhaustion if they were bonded, or if he’d still obliviously wander away each night to meditate and get his full eight hours of beauty sleep.

Just because Hux’s life has collapsed down to this one small room, that doesn’t mean the war takes a break as well. With Snoke gone now is the time to consolidate their forces. So Hux continues to work remotely, relaying orders by datapad with one eye fixed always on their daughter. But as the days pass the quality of his work begins to fail.

His head aches. His eyes ache. His limbs are made of ferrocrete and even his tongue feels heavy. He isn’t sure when he last ate anything of substance. His stomach can’t handle more than the blandest food and he’s certain the flesh is beginning to melt off his bones.

He's beyond exhausted but each time he feels his eyes drift shut he starts awake with guilty terror as if his daughter is already dead in his arms. But a body cannot hold out forever…

* * *

When he wakes he finds himself finally well rested but chilled to the bone. It takes him a moment or two to recognise what’s wrong. His arms are empty. His daughter isn’t in them, nor is she resting on his chest or in his lap.

She’s gone.

He turns, panicking, intending to search the folds of the nest for an impossibly tiny body, but in the darkness beyond the nest he sees a figure sitting comfortably on the floor. It’s the Knight whose fingers he broke all that time ago.

How he knows that he isn’t sure since the person sitting opposite does not look like a Knight of Ren. Instead she’s an older woman in loose matronly robes with braids that are turning grey at the roots. The only signs that she isn’t some innocent grandmother are the blaster callouses on her hands and a patchwork of keloid scars around her neck. She looks like someone cut her throat, a very long time ago.

His daughter is asleep with her head on the woman’s shoulder. It’s hard to see in this dim light but he thinks her fingers are lightly gripping a braid.

“What do you want?” He tries to keep his voice flat. He is a General, he is the de facto Supreme Leader of the First Order. It all counts for nothing when the thing he cares for most is in the hands of a being who could end his daughter, and probably him too, with nothing but a thought.

He’s sick and tired of feeling helpless.

“What do I want?” She repeats with a smile. “Peace in the galaxy. True and natural balance in the Force. For my Master not to find his Mate dead from exhaustion before he can even claim him. For my Master’s child to know both her parents.”

Hux gapes at her. That was not the reply he was expecting. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t know why you Imperial types think everything must be done alone. We are a communal species, we function best when we work as a team with every Alpha, Beta and Omega taking some of the load as best suited to their individual skills.” She paused, wagging a finger at him in a censure he’s not certain he’s earned. “And don’t you go accusing me of designation bias, I’ll just as happily cheer an Alpha tailor as an Omega warrior, I mean simply that we should all do our part.”

His daughter stirs slightly at the noise and the woman lowers her voice. “We waited, my spiritual siblings and I, for you to ask for our help. But you did nothing. You fought on alone when there were seven healthy adults around you. We know our Master left you alone but we are here now and you are in our care. Both of you.”

Hux cannot think of a way to reply to this without giving himself away. This is a kind of human connection he hasn’t been offered decades, perhaps not ever. He truly cannot process it.

“What do I want, Emperor Hux? For you to get another hour’s sleep before this one wakes and your day of work begins. And then I want you to accept our help for as long as you need it. This little one is precious and we promise you she will never go unguarded.”

It could be a Force mind-trick but he’s had Kylo and the others in his head enough now to know that this feels genuine.

Slowly and carefully he sinks back into the softness of the bed and, with his eyes still fixed on his daughter he allows himself to relax. Sleep comes swiftly and without guilt. The next day he will be refreshed and the war is going to bend to his will.

* * *

Hope is six weeks old when Hux feels a telltale flush in his blood and finally bares his neck to Kylo Ren.

She celebrates her second birthday seated upon the Emperor’s knee, green eyes looking out from the throne room across a peaceful galaxy that is filled with promise.


End file.
